


Dutifully Unbound

by Dreckig (Gallavantula)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Crossover territory, Incest, Just to be safe, Kind of Au shennanigans, M/M, Minor Character Deaths, Slow Burn, Undertale Au crossover, honeymustard - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-07-14 05:56:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7156337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gallavantula/pseuds/Dreckig
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your typical kind of Honeymustard fic... but really not.</p>
<p>Reload and reset powers can be kind of cool, but they effect far more than one would realize. Underfell Sans (Rex) begins to experience time anomalies and jumps long before he's able to understand what they are. Bit by bit, as he learns to master his gifts, and survive his harsh, kill or be killed world...</p>
<p>He begins to learn of another. Where things are far more off kilter beyond the treatment of fellow monsters, and where the counterpart to his person is the Papyrus he'd never thought to exist. </p>
<p>Worse, he didn't expect how... addicting it could be, to explore this new place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Standard Quality Of Living Varies

The first time he’d ever felt a jump, Sans had been 17 years old. Food was brutally hard to get, and the winter season was more merciless than any before it. The cold crisp air ate away at monster’s fingers, and the doctors were few and far in between to be at all willing to treat something as minor as digit loss. Even though Sans (Or Rex, as he liked to use instead as real names were far rarely given out.) had three layers of gloves on each hand, the ratty holes let air in, and he felt the chill bite the bone plates upon his fingers. Rubbing his arms only did so much, so he tucked his hands into his armpits to help focus the heat on his extremities. This was going to bust he knew. 

“C’MON!” Papyrus shouted after him, gesturing broadly with a flapping arm to get them both moving forward again, ratty boots strapped with belts and elastics from torn underwear to keep them together. 

“m’comin’.” Rex muttered sharply to silence him, following the tracks in the ankle high snow as together, the partners in crime scooted around the edge of the decrepit sentry building and stopped beside the fence. This was usually where they made it, and bailed if the guard was walking around. Time seemed on their side, as the guard had already made his rounds, and was probably lazing in his small shack… leaving the food stores for a moment exposed. Papyrus turned, smacking his knees hard and braced into position. Seemed there was no dissuading him this time, and Rex snorted softly, backing up enough to get a running start before charging. 

Many errands before Rex had been the one to try and toss Papyrus up like this. His arms were too weak and wobbly, and most times Papyrus scratches his chest or unprotected belly against the barbwire more than Rex wanted to count. Eventually, they both decided that Papyrus had the tossing strength, and thus Rex would be the one to vault and anchor. Scattering snow, he leapt, landing on Papyrus’ waiting arms and was thrown upwards. His gloves and jackets at least, leant to protection as he grasped onto the barrier and wire with prickle in his palms. Rex held, smashing his knees against the links and clunched tightly.

“OKAY. COMING.” Papyrus announced quickly, whizzing his way backwards for running speed and leapt, grasping tight to Rex’s legs as he whimpered and struggled to keep his grip. They may be light from eating so little, but it held no candle to the exhaustion of hunger still hovered over their heads and the sweat was beading. Quickly from much practice, Papyrus started climbing up his ally and gripped to the fence, hopping over to land on the other side with a minor grunt. From here, Rex wriggled, struggling hard to drag his ass upwards enough to lean over the barbed wire and settle his weight there.

“...solid.” He announced with a pant, out of breath from something so simple but he had to ascent. Papyrus only nodded sharply, and darted off towards the storage unit twenty paces from the fence. This was the tricky part of any of their missions. Because like that, Papyrus was left on his own. Sure, he was the older monster of the two, but it was very nerve wracking trying to leap up over a fence by yourself when a boost was needed to get in. Still. That’s what Rex was up here for. Clear vantage, ease of magic that he could give Papyrus that small lift to meet hands and make their escape. He was distracted though, and shook his head to begin counting. 

Four spotted crab apples. Five spotted crab apples. Six spotted crab apples. Papyrus was at the door, jimmying it open quietly enough to slip inside. Hurry…. Ten spotted crab apples. Eleven spotted crab apples. Twelve spotted crab apples. Rex glances to the sentry station to keep an eye there, seeing the flicker of blinds from movement and felt his soul stammer. Shit. Hurry-! Their time frame was running thin, and Papyrus wasn’t back yet..! Hurry it up already, man! Seventeen spotted crab apples. Eighteen spotted crab apples. Nineteen spotted crab apples. 

Before he could begin to truly panic, he saw Papyrus’ scarf flicker, and he was struggling to get through the gap. Overloaded his pockets, probably. A cuss comes out, and he’s shifting, already getting himself ready to lean further forward and hooked his boot toes into the fence to keep himself from falling. Hurry the fuck up- There’s a distinct sound that echoes through the area, and both monsters foolishly pause. The sentry station door begins to open, and Papyrus snaps out of it first. Drags himself hard through the gap, scratching at his sweater and losing some thread but that didn’t matter. Rex was mouthing his affirmation, ‘go go go’! without any voice, leaning his hands down to prepare to catch his partner. 

Then, a bark echoes over the courtyard, and Rex flinches when he realizes that Papyrus was only ten paces to the fence. 

“Hey! You! Stop!” The gruff, commanding voice of the posted soldier cracked like a whip upon the soil, but neither headed to stop. Papyrus’ boots crunched as he pelted, arms braced around his middle to keep the rations he’d snatched secure for his lift. Rex’s focus was zoned in entirely on Papyrus’ lanky form, counting every step down and shifted further to lower his arms. Twenty nine spotted crab apples. Thirty spotted crab apples. Thirty one spotted crab apples… There’s a crackle in the air, and a split second to see the blue light beaming towards them. Papyrus leaps, dodging the projectile that would have cleaved off his foot and his arms fling up to catch Rex’s. 

More sharp blue magic blades sailed for them, making their retreat tricky but the leader was in focus. Papyrus scaled up, using Rex’s pinned wait to hold into the barbs and get him to the top. There’s the thrill of panic that he may be left behind, a good distraction for Papyrus’ getaway. Rex imagines the scenario faster than it can be dissuaded, locking up tightly as the other clambered to anchor his feet on the pole, crunching the wire. More whistling sounds sail over their heads, the guard coming closer and closer but panic holds. 

He feels the barbs clenched tightly to his shirt, and Papyrus rocks him to try and peel him upwards to remove but he’s stuck fast. His soul is hammering hard, and the fear that he may die- that Papyrus may die pushes ozone through his throat and over the tingling flat of his tongue. Magic gathered in his palms, shimmering as Papyrus tugged him harder, trying to free him so they could land safely on the ground but it wasn’t coming- 

“Get back here!” The guard barked loudly, already ten paces from the fence when Rex feels it again. The rush of magic, the pulse, like a tether to a fly-away kite- 

“REX-!” Papyrus shrieks, nearly falling off of him before he grabbed around his throat to hold on. All at once, the world starts to move faster than he was, and the daze as his jacket tore for freedom sent him up, and backwards. A blade slices through his spattering fabric, where his head had been and his eyes trace the curve of teeth on the blade of pure magic. Watched it waver, conjured from the weilder’s memory and showed scuffs and dents from the original. It was gone, and as he fell back, and back- the tether tugged hard. His chest lifted, and with a splayed hand he latches on. 

The rest of him lifts, and the world is gone in a crashing wave of white noise that pressed him flat and small. Was he screaming? Was he breathing? Before he knew it he felt like something shot him out of a canon, and his feet felt anchored down and torn from his waist before everything crushed down on that mid-point. Rex felt sick, dazed, and tried to vocalize his discomfort but the rest of his air left his lungs in a rush. Tugged up, tugged aside, pulled in a curl, he felt his being rend and scatter like marbles from broken glass. Then, as sand, he slid upwards and curled into spools of wool, muffling everything and nothing until suddenly he was spat back down into snow. 

It fluttered up as his vision swam, gasping heavily for air as he could finally breathe in the wash of sensation and prickling all the length of his body. He’d been freed from whatever that was, and the rejuvenation was painful over his battered being. Regardless of whatever had happened, he needed to act now. Escape. Safety. Rex jumped up, afraid for the guard, the fence, Papyrus- His arms gangled around, scattering snow and pulling him upwards to his feet, faltering and struggling for balance that never seemed to come. His vision was spotting still as he kept dragging in air, stretching his chest to take it in and feed back his soul to beat harder and harder. 

He needed to run-

“P-Pap-” His throat was raw, and Rex coughed, wheezing and tried desperately to get himself lurching, moving. The knife he’d seen, his thoughts spun. Saw it pierce his body, smash his bone plates, over and over… His throat constricts and gags, hands cold from the snow as he smushed it in swipes. Finally finds the path, looking left, looking right- 

There’s a figure there, brighter than he could have thought. It sears his eyes to squinting, brilliant crimson fire among the white of the snow. He’s stopped, hunched forward for balance and looks it over. The face, he sees Pap, and he’s staggering aside. A hand reaches for him, but it’s crisp. Clean. Bare. He sees the way the fabric looks tidy, the face wide and open, and he steps back. This isn’t his- 

“PAPPY?” A soft, timid voice calls out from behind the worried, creased brow of the outreaching figure; it’s nearly his if the pitch was younger, sharper, more nasal. The terror, sheer iceberg force that scrapes down his back sends him staggering… and the same lurch follows. The kite string attaches to his sternum and goes, compressing his vision and his head and spinning him aside like thrown from a speeding vehicle. Up, down, sliding over the lip to free fall into the abyss. Ravaged by winds and thrown around, breathing a final breath before it closed tightly on his body. Smooth, round pebbles rolled down his being in rows, massaging into the soft pads of leaves that rustled over his nerve endings like droplets of rain. 

And all of a sudden, it all removed from him like air into an air tight sack. His lungs fill with air, his body pounds from missing oxygen and spasms uncomfortably. All at once, he’s aware that he’s falling still, that there’s an arm around his throat… and Pap is still screaming. The slow motion picks up again, letting the crystals above the tree line shimmer and glimmer with soft alphalic kisses and humming tunes… like alignments had been made, and there was constellations he could make out. 

Something like a dragon, leaping over a boat. Two goats, leaping past each other with horns raised. A maiden with a veil, holding her hands above her head in prayer. A snake, coiled about some sphere. Then, it speeds up. His body flies into the snow poff at the bottom, and Papyrus is still rolling, yanking his form to fold up and compress tight. His spine protests, creaks painfully and he wants to scream but he’s still so damn worn out from that weird experience. His fingers felt numb for a whole new reason, soul pounding like he’d nearly burst but there was no time.

“I’ll kill you both!” Raged the soldier, and more blades were thrown their way, some deflecting off the fence from the magic barriers employed upon the links while others sailed right on through towards them. The monster children seemed to get enough sense to stand, and Papyrus hauled Rex up to his feet as they began to run. Stumbling, almost crying from the pain in his knees, and the ringing in his ear cavities… Rex clasped hands with his only friend, letting Papyrus lead as they made their escape. The shouting continued behind their every step. The mimics hurried to find the first hide away and begin the long journey to their home, tucked for cover as envoys passed them by. Safety was hard, and they waited with baited breath between stones as patrols moved around, shouting for their blood with more ferocity than before. 

Such events were normal enough that the pause and crawl was a familiar trail. The street rats bid their time, snaking past run down homes and hiding behind brush until their little hole was found. Rex waits last, letting the one with the goods in first before dipping down and scuttling forward into the den. They are quiet, all the while, allowing the dripping noises to show them when to stand up again, and turning the narrow, tight corner they find their cavern hiding place. It was simple, oblong like a squash with a neat lining of crystals along the top side to illuminate their floor… and the small nests they made. 

Coats, blanket shreds, burlap sacks, socks, stove mittens, curtains, shirts; whatever material they’d managed to collect over the years, swaddled up into pads for them to curl up and nestle down for sleep. And their trinkets; bells, shards of cool glass, bulbs, knick knacks of many kinds in little rings behind their nests for safety. It was cozy enough to inhabit, more personalized than any box on the streets could be, and Rex could thank Papyrus dozens of times over for it. At last, home and safe and alive... Papyrus instantly began gushing. His voice rattled quickly about the mission, scene to scene and hopped around the space with glee. His hands flailed, repeating swipes and flapping to display his excitement as he hounded over Rex’s shoulders and howled up into the cavern to diffuse his emotions. Pap had always been the more energetic of the two, but this was more than that. 

Despite this victory and the food they could celebrate to eat… Rex felt utterly exhausted, more so than what he felt on a normal day. That strange vision, that peculiar jump… had drained him utterly of his magical reserves. His fingers tingled still from the energy he’d felt and been crushed by, reminding him that it hadn’t been some panic attack induced vision. Something had happened there, and his soul… it felt new. Shaped differently from that brush. Distracted, he wasn’t howling back, or jumping with Papyrus at all. Such lackluster responses dimmed Papyrus’ own by a margin, and eventually the two settled at last to eat on rex’s nest, huddled together to open the taller mimic’s coats to assess their prizes. 

Army rations. Compressed, pure compost foods that would restore much of the magic reserves with a single bite. Together, they took two each, and wrapped the bar for later. Even so, Rex was queasy and light headed. Sleep. He needed sleep. 

“...heh, we did super.” He managed with the worst grin possible, and Papyrus frowned at him before lightly shoving his face.

“YOU LOOK AWFUL. HIT THE HAY, LOSER.” So the two trade their handshake, brushing palms and bumping fists with a little twist and lock, before Papyrus scavenged his nest for that puzzle book, and settled to read until he could sleep. Rex flopped backwards, eyes shutting straight away and let the drip of water soothe his nerves. 

That red hoodie… the soft, replication of his voice. The hell had that been? A vision? His subconcious? It was real, there was no denying it… 

Rex yawns, dragged into troubled, restless sleep as that clean, familiar hand reached out for him in the pure white fog of that snow path.


	2. Growing Up Is Tough Shit

The second jump Rex experienced was at the tender age of 32. Years of training, stealing, gathering and growing had benefited the mimics greatly, though not by even margin. Where Rex held prodigy in magical gifts and raw power, his concentration tore his body of energy, leaving him breathless and drained far more often than he’d liked. Papyrus was all flexible physicality, body steady and efficient, but his magic fizzled out entirely after a few short uses. In essence, this disparity allowed for their friendship to flourish and mutually benefit, protecting each other’s weaknesses for survival.

One became the back up, the shadow. Sticking back to capture souls in a sheen of eerie blue and smash down attackers to allow Papyrus past their defenses. The other was at once the decoy as he was the foreman and battalion. Using clever tricks of bones to steer and counter projectiles while dashing, leaping and kicking into opposing forces with more grace than most soldiers on the force. Putting their advantages to the test, and stealing back parcels and mail to complete missions.

An impeccable team, inseparable despite the harsh jowls of the underground in which they lived. Food became easier to hold onto, and stability was normalized from their small fare errands and little tasks for stamps. The town they lived by found a foothold in tense peace, allowing monsters a delicate situation of civility. Jobs were becoming easier to hold down, and a progression for society had begun. Though age was still an issue for a small runt like Rex, Papyrus was a few years older, tentatively 38 in comparison, and nearly adult. The opening for the guard duties would soon be in reach, and the two sparred, trained and countered against patrolling guards that disturbed the tenuous peace upheld in town limits to prepare. 

Having such a role would guarantee a better quality of life. Entering the guard assured food quite solidly, but also warranted shelter, armour, and most importantly reputation. Papyrus knew that getting into this team was the ticket the street rats needed to leave this loathsome, scrapping life behind. His drive became entirely focused on this ideal, pushing himself and hard to grow stronger, taller, faster... he was hitting six feet already, and his bone plates he'd shed last season were growing in to fit his new height. It felt damn good, and Rex watched enviously from the sidelines. 

"AND WITH STATUS LIKE THAT, WE CAN OWN A HOUSE!" He prattled excitedly about the details, probably for the twentieth time as his deep red eyes scanned the poster he'd scavenged. A simple blue banner over a faded mulberry background with the royal crest, and the postage details below. Toriel had a good hand in keeping things running smoothly, while Asgore was more concerned with power and the actual assessment of his soldiers. A hand rubbed at the round lip of his own socket, teasing the skin of his eyelid as Papyrus worked the blurriness from his vision. Rex huffs faintly from his nest, listening but too lazy to reply in full. 

"CAN YOU IMAGINE IT, SANS? WATER! HEATING!" Papyrus began to pose, rubbing over his exposed arms and the bone plates along his biceps with eagerness. Rex again choruses with a huff for input, put out by the name but engaged enough for his friend to keep going. 

"FOOD STORAGE SYSTEMS! ACTUAL WALLS! FLOORS WITHOUT MOISTURE!" He stops when his voice creaks with change, altering to something heavier and felt embarrassed. Turning around swiftly, Papyrus strode forth and leap onto Rex with spindly limbs, burying his face to hide from his mental barrage. A protest and bark is given back, hands shoving at Papyrus with urgency to get him off but the taller monster only began to giggle and punch back. 

"ooofffff!!!" Rex whined before grunting, too slow to deflect Papyrus' punch into his gut. Owwww.... 

"IT'S GOING TO BE THE BEST THING TO HAPPEN TO US!" Papyrus cheered with finality, flopping himself entirely onto his friend to smother him. Rex wriggled, feet kicking and hands shoving, but he was already breathing heavy and eventually gave up, sprawled beneath the monster’s weight. The taller laughed deeply, again giving the oddest creak when it gave out. Rex snorted hard, amused by the sound and earned another punch into his side.

"oomph, a'right a'right..!" His laughter continued, jovial and playful as Papyrus hid his face into a scrap of fur and screamed. Rex just patted his shoulder vaguely, gently offering what assurance he could until eventually it stopped, chest heaving atop of him. Papyrus had always been the lighter of the two for as long as Rex could recall, although now it didn't seem to hold truth anymore. He was heavy. Damnit...!

"uhg, pap mooovveeee." Rex said with a huff, shoving at him again but he refused to. The stillness, the quiet... it's hint enough to something amiss, and Rex stops to tap at Papyrus' spine plates. 

"pap?" The hesitancy is there in the air, awning and heavy enough that cold drips down his own spinal plating. Was he-

"...I HATE THIS." Papyrus said with dejection, soft and small. Vulnerable. Rex was stiff, hand hovering over the other with stillness. Was this the rise of a new episode, or...? He waited, hoping to have enough time to run if Papyrus' mood swung heavy. It didn't. 

"I BARELY UNDERSTAND MY BODY, ANYMORE. IT'S DOING STUPID THINGS!" A hand punched the curled lining of Rex's nest, and he groaned as the edge steals away some of his tone. Puberty, they both knew, but it's different when no other monster looked like they did... and had the answers they needed. 

"s'ok pap. yer jus... gettin bigger. stronger. if yer like pupp, yer voice is all wacked cuz it's gunna drop." Rex answered calmly, still stiff as he waits for signs. An episode was one thing; an episode started on his lap was another. 

"jus you wait... yer gunna sound fierce an big, bigger than anybody 'round this place." He continued helpfully, urging the things he knew Papyrus liked to hear until he seemed to calm. Slowly the taller monster rolled onto his side to look up at his friend with a worried expression, black sclera tinged lightly with the red traces of his soul. Emotional shit was rampant lately, spats starting up out of nowhere and tensions born where none should have been. Maybe it was a part of puberty too.

"...YOU REALLY THINK SO?" He asks with softness, brows creased and mouth pressed in a worried frown. It looked almost ridiculous, and Rex couldn't help the shove he gave to Papyrus' head to avoid the feelings it stirred. No time for that weird, sensitive shit. 

"ah know so, man. yer gunna grow up to be the fiercest fuck these cocksuckers have ever seen." For good measure he rubs his hand side to side over Papyrus' head in a noogie gesture, and the protesting noises start up as his landed punches are sharp and pinching. It's what he got for packing on weight like he was, his brain compartmentalizes, and he's wrestling the taller monster into a headlock. 

"stop fillin yer head with stupid shit!! egg head yer gunna rot it out!" Rex is already laughing, feeling talons digging on him too hard but he's clenching his arm a little tighter. The two tussle, spinning over and throwing each other to the floor, onto Papyrus' nest, trade snatches of teeth over arms and sides playfully as things got rough.

Fights like these were something they both felt comfortable doing, ever since their very first meeting as infants... already the laughter and squeals of pain filled the worried gaps in their hearts, silencing concerns for another pocket of time. Growing up was hard work, and the closer they got the more worrisome things seemed to get. Eventually the rough housing calmed, Papyrus crawling up first to get his coat layered and bags strapped on beneath them. Rex wheezed and rubbed the sweat building on his skull plates, needing far longer himself to get ready and drag his rear in gear. 

"HURRY IT UP ALREADY!" Papyrus eventually snapped, patience suddenly thin and grating. Why was Rex so annoying? He had been so happy with him just a moment ago! 

"hold yer horses, holy fuck." Rex quips mindlessly back, patting himself down and adjusted the straps on his shoes to make sure the soles would stay together enough to seal the snow outside. By then Papyrus began a groaning noise, droning and drawn out that annoyed the ever loving piss out of his companion. It was enough to come over and cuff him in the back of his head to make it stop.

"alright alright, shut up!!!" Rex snarled out, and Papyrus leaned over to snap his teeth towards the other before darting off for the tunnel. A growled reply is given, and the two mimics begin their mad dash for the exit. As youths they began pouncing past bends and leaping off of walls before the slit of light appeared, childlike and free. Papyrus burst forth first, using the boulder that hid the entry as a leaping pad to spring up onto the cavern rock, anchoring there to spin and leap off into a snow poff for landing that scattered flakes into the air.

Next moment Rex popped out with a wheeze, fanning his face and leaning on the rock for support. Shit, he shouldn't be this out of shape..! 

"HURRY THE FUCK UP, SANS!" Papyrus crowed, already leaping up from the dent he made and scattered snow to begin running again. With little choice, Rex heaved and picked up, forcing his feet to lift one after the other in pursuit. Sure they weren't exactly timed for when they needed to come claim their tasks, but being early meant better options. And Papyrus was all for those options. So off they went, on and off with Rex sometimes stumbling over himself and hounded by a circling Papyrus who shouted and jeered until he got up again to keep going. Like that progress was consistent, darting around shacks and flimsy huts where monsters had begun to adopt new station. 

Slipping around the back of the rackety outpost, Papyrus leaned forward to knock the code upon the door (though Rex doubted there was actually a code at all.) and stood back to wait. It took a few moments, Papyrus growling softly to himself and nearly doing the knock again before it slammed open and there stood their employer, Lapina. Her blue fur was looking the freshest they’ve ever seen it, and her yellow eyes were narrowed, ears lifting upwards in a threat display. 

"Who the fuck-! Oh! Hello boys!" Her yellowed chompers flashed, four teeth they'd seen chew through bone like it was but a carrot and they stood up a little taller. Her posture straightened, bodice showing the pale fur over her breasts and neither seemed too interested to lower their gaze further. 

“WE’VE COME FOR OUR NEXT TASK.” Papyrus announces with an air of certainty, unyielding. They would not be denied, it seemed to say, and Lapina adjusts herself to stand straighter almost responsively. Her deft hand pulls papers from a box beside the door, looking to the articles of deeds and sorting some into the bin by the frame before flitting over the skeleton monsters. Her regard is far more respectful than it had been before… even as a child’s soft crying began down the hall behind her. 

“Alrighty then, you two. Made it before the pup boys! Means you get the freshest pickens.” Lapina said with an air of distraction, flitting through the notes and reading over their topics before lifting one up between her index and middle finger to hold it aloft. Papyrus’ hand swiftly snatched it out of her hand before she could lift it out of range, and the employer trilled playful laughter as she was outmatched for it. 

“Old Gyftrot needs monsters to deliver a parcel to him by the cliffside. You’ll get three copper for the journey.” He’s pulling it open to see awful scratch, that he guarantees was written with a mouth instead of a hand. Felt damn thankful Lapina translated the garbage for him, otherwise time would have been wasted trying to do it themselves. 

“FINE!” Papyrus said in dismissal, crunching the note and stuffed it into a pocket before he posed somewhat to appear more intimidating. When he’d been four foot it had been funny. Now, at six, he had some height to pull it off better, and Rex cleared his throat. “WE’LL TAKE IT! WHERE IS THIS PACKAGE?” 

“Here.” She disappears around the door, and the child crying gets louder and louder, though the boys ignore it. Single mothers can only do so much at a time, after all, and such noise was easy to ignore. So they waited, sturdy and patient until she came back with the largest satchel they’d ever seen. Full weighted, even, as Lapina dragged the contents to the door jam and let it settle. Not only heavy, but big. 

Both felt a thrill of tension go through them. While Rex was anxiety, already speculating the issues and what ifs of the situation… Papyrus’ hands began shaking with tight, sudden anger. 

“THREE COPPER?” He spat verbally, tone creaking with an offended air. A talon tipped finger jabs towards the bag like it had stepped on his foot in passing. “YOU INSULT US! THAT BAG IS EASILY WORTH TEN!” 

“The payment is three copper.” Lapina said slowly, as if talking to a small child and used her foot to lightly touch the bag forward. Papyrus snarled with his fangs exposed, displaying his anger and Lapina seemed to withdraw haughtily, arms folded beneath her breasts in a familiar posture that flew over the two younger boy’s heads. “Take it, or leave. Other delivery boys will do it for you.” 

Tension ran high, mounting as he saw Papyrus’ back curling, arms splayed like he’d lunge at her. His responses could be geared for intimidation usually, but lately his temper has been awful and Rex feared his friend was losing control. A small hand touched the middle of his back and nearly got a fist to the face before Papyrus held himself back. Wide eyes blinked, facial features shifting to a shamed neutral and he huffs. Rex will probably be punished later, but for now… 

“YOU’RE CHEATING US.” Papyrus muttered as he steps forward, in the same frame that Lapina steps back. Hostility was high, and she wasn’t stupid enough to assume her role of power would protect her. The younger monster snatched the top of the bag, hauling it up over his shoulders with a soft huff of effort and began to stalk towards the path that lead to the bridge without another word. The silence was haunting, but Rex simply dipped his head towards the leering keeper, who slammed her door shut to finally lock up and tend to her infant. 

Eventually Rex turned too, trailing behind to follow Papyrus’ hunched back and the heavy burden he seemed to be managing just fine. The issue mostly came from the fact that outside the living limits, bandits still roamed. If they found a target with burden, they feel entitled to relieve it from monster hands, or dust piles. Theft is common and frequent in every part of the underground, even as monsters extend their reach beyond the first settlement and towards the heated crags. It’s when you are paid for safe delivery that it becomes a high density issue, protecting that cargo and daring danger to get across safely for meager rewards.

A sack like theirs would assure high conflict if they were spotted, a payload that would make even the more skittish of fighters eager to try for the reward. Three coppers was the worst level of insult for such a task, and Papyrus was utterly fuming. Maybe Lapina had it out for them. Maybe she was fed up with their service… He nearly shakes his head to dismiss it. The two were silent as they passed the first sentry, balancing upon the drawbridge and it’s wavering rope to make it across to the other side. The wind stirred their cloths as it kissed their bones and flesh, chasing shivers down their tailbones and chewing at their layers of cloths. Another run would need to be done to replenish their articles.

The sentry station slowly faded from view as they plodded through the snowdrift, putting distance behind them. Gyftrot was perhaps one of the many half way points from Home Landing, making it nearly a pit stop of sorts. Most monsters either lived in the new snowy settlement, the campgrounds for Home Landing or nooks and crannies like Rex and Papyrus did. It meant that hostiles were probably already watching the duo quite closely, and both were quite aware of such possibility. At least side by side like this, neither could be split apart recklessly. A rather stable plan that saved them grief and stupid amature mistakes. Papyrus sniffed softly, breathing in what traces he could to see if any lingering beings came along recently… and stopped. 

“STAY CLOSE.” Papyrus snapped suddenly, startling Rex from his slouch to shuffle in closer by Papyrus’ side. A grunt is given to show his support, though Rex didn’t entirely need it. Not when the tension rolling off of their shoulders was huge already. Turns out it was important enough, driving their stalking monsters out from the brush to circle them. Three of them, and fierce, tall buggers. The leader seemed to be a lizard like being, with spines and frills that had chewed chunks from the cold. He smelled of disease and dust, slowly corrupting from malnourishment. 

“Smart boys, neh?” The hulking, shambling figure hissed out, voice far too nasal and pushed through the throat like he’d sooner croak. A very shaggy looking wolf who didn’t groom too often at all held a curved knife, stepping aside to flank the lizard… and behind them, a faun was shifting their hooves for balance, sniffing as their angled face showed a single, fractured horn base. Surrounded. Rex reached up to touch Boss’ waistband, and the older monster nearly slapped that hand away were he not holding the satchel with both.

“....” Papyrus leered at the three of them, watching their weapons exchange hands idly, to and fro, to and fro… tension thick enough to taste. They were waiting to see who would bend first, and then amped it.

“Now, be good youngin’s and drop yer baggage.” The lizard monster gestured a come hither motion with a crooked finger, grinning to show yellowed and decaying teeth in his maw… but Papyrus scowls hard, defiantly up at him. 

“NO.” He states with more steel than Rex feels, who swallows gently and peeks back at the fawn who shifted another step to get further behind them. Shit. It would be harder to defend like this.

“C’mon you stupid punk, drop it. Don’t make us scuffle because yer ego grew too big.” The lizard gestures again, but Papyrus hisses to gargle some bile, and spits it at the monster’s bandaged feet. A hiss is given and the green sickly being flinched back, almost fearing acid before laughing at his own jumpiness. Just their luck. Big, nasty fucks with high LV that would give them trouble. Even Papyrus was triple guessing course of action facing these ruffians, and as the grains of sand ticked by… 

“Heh, is that all this ‘Papyrus’ is going to do? Spit and glare at us? What a pathetic little twerp!” The comment prompts giggling laughter from the other two, but that’s all Papyrus needed to hear. His face is shockingly open, jaw half slack as he blinks and fumbles for logic. He motions to ask but the wolf takes turn.

“I ‘eard ‘e was th’ one leadin’ fer parcels! Yet he’s jus’ got an ugly mug ta show f’r it?! Wha’ a Pap’wussy’!” The howling laughter starts, and he’s leaning forward to shove Papyrus’ shoulder back. It’s enough to make him stumble a little, slipping his grip on the bag some to hang lower and work a whine of concern out of Rex. This was bad. Real bad. And Papyrus had already began to recover, arm quivering with tension. Rex knew he’d be egging for a fight soon, and with that stupidly short temper of his, this would be their funeral. 

“Such a fast deliverer, yet no quick wit! Papyrus is a wimp of a joke!” The faun brayed playfully to their friends, goading them to keep the game going, gesturing a hand to mockingly gesture and point at Papyrus. Rex was looking about, sighting for hideouts and escapes while the Wolf shifted again, crooked teeth yellowed and gleaming.

“I know! Papussy! Pansyrus! Pityrus! Bwuahahahahah!” His hand came up to shove Papyrus again, but he side stepped and lunged, pointed talons pressing into his elbow joint to bend it the other way. A yip is given and the wolf swings his arm with the jab, saving his joint from being broken and stumbled around to gather himself before stepping back. The first strike had been delivered, and the shift was already changing the atmosphere around them. 

“REX. CEILING HEIGHT. WOLF.” He commands with a chill, and Rex snaps into it. Battle initiated. He steps around, eye flaring brilliant blue as he sights the wolf, peers past his layers of fibers and fur… to the soul. Grasped his talons to seize it. The mood shifts, and the three predators all seem to slowly blink in shock, leaning back to set themselves apart. It was far, far too late. With a swipe the Wolf stumbles, being locked in and the panic truly morphed that snout into something ghastly. 

“Wai-” The wolf reaches forward, maybe to gesture a pause, or grab onto something for stability. The very next moment Rex’s arm goes straight up, and so does the Wolf. A howl comes forth as he goes, already echoing with distance as he shot up like a spear and kept going, and going… and going. He was but a grey speck as his friends looked on, eyes bugged wide and glazed. He was gone. The bag touches snow with a clatter and clunk.

“What the fu-” The fawn gurgled nervously, braying an edge of laughter in their tone before Papyrus spun around, kicking off the ground and swiped a leg around to vault his momentum upwards, cracking the hard surface of his calf plate against the side of the monster’s head. It goes so fast that their head rocks sideways, trying to sail in the ricochet and boggled on the line of the spinal column before it crunched from the pressure. His heel guides it’s weight along, forcing lips to shrivel from pain and a squirt of blood spews over teeth and gums as a tooth is crushed asunder the pressure. Down they went with a faint rush of air through their muzzle as it finally released their skull, knees buckling and body slack to slump into the ground with a puft of flakes.

One left.

“You FUCKING BRATS!!” The lizard shrilly screamed as he brandished his sword, striding forward with the attempt to cleave and alerting nearby monsters that a strife was happening. There was nothing for it it seems, the danger wasn’t close from being over at all. Damnit. Rex ground his teeth, finally releasing his victim when he assumed he would nearly touch ceiling and moved. He was aiming for the lizard, when Papyrus swept around and gasped. It was distraction enough for Rex to flinch to look, and the shambling thief lunged. 

“Die, ya little fuck!” The blade whistled as it swung towards him, and Papyrus shouted loudly as he moved in. Came around to scoop his heel like a guillotine, bringing it down to meet half the hilt and the lizard’s hand. Slow motion detachment captures the crack of fingers and the warp of the blade as it wobbles along the length, flimsy but flexible. The motion is enough to guide the end away from his face as it passes, nearly clipping his shoulder and being dropped over his side. So damn close he felt his chest pinch tightly in aftershock. 

“MOVE!” Papyrus boomed with command, leading with his foot to land and dip down to miss a punch aimed for his head all in one fell swoop, and lunged up to connect with the monster’s jaw. The sloppy vision of the assailant helped a lot, but counting in flimsy luck would get them both killed. So Rex reaches for the bag before a barbed tongue is flung towards his hand, glinting with moisture over the spines that would surely tear his flesh like nothing.

“f-fuck-” Rex rasped in shock, retracting as Papyrus curled his hand around the flute of the lizard’s tongue and wrenched, spilling more blood into the snow. The screaming was piercing and noisy, and Papyrus dove back out of the way as their opponent staggered from his injury, claws dragging and pulling at his own mouth like he could take away the pain. It’s then that Papyrus is already moving again, scooping up the bag over his shoulder and starts running for the rock face towards the left.

“HIDE.” Is all the taller monster says before Rex goes bow legged, tilting to change direction and finds his legs to sprint. The two aim for the walls, hoping that the screaming would fade behind them but it doesn’t. The howling started, shrill and high like a squealing trapped animal and the wolf has maybe four seconds to announce his return before his body strikes ground and bounces. They hear the crack of bone and the snap of tension as arms flew upwards… before the disintegration started, and dust scattered in a pop of spraying projectiles. The assailants who found the scene would surely find themselves scared to fight such adversaries, and Rex hoped that it was enough-

“YeH f’sh-ucks!” Screamed that blasted, stupid lizard, and the two kept going. Pelted hard, wound around a rock, dashed for a tree. Rex’s vision swam. His soul hammered in his chest, pounding his ribcage sharper and sharper until he was wheezing. It hurt. It hurt enough to choke him but he staggered, struggling with his exertion. The screaming was following them still, so he had to keep going. Gain distance, manage safety... His head swivels to asses next course of action and he realizes quickly that he’s lost his partner. The fighter of the duo was gone. The screaming was getting closer. Rex felt panic seize his throat as he realized that he’d be screwed.

Power of will, his legs give out. His body hit the ground hard and he dragged himself, pulled at stones beneath the snow and tried to get away. The pounding was incessant, smothering him and tingling his soles with prickles that nipped harder and harder. Magic burned in his throat, squeezing him for breath and he struggled against this boulder of weight. A panic attack, maybe? The screaming for blood radiated closer, battering around his skull like bats fluttering for freedom. He keeps trying to crawl, but the fear is howling just as loud. Bites into his back, dragging down his sides with pain as he continues to cough and struggle for air. 

“OI’ll kyll yas!” Comes from around the bend, and Rex finds himself almost pulsing with power. He didn’t want to die. Not like this. Not to some fucked up monster who was already on his way to dust. He didn’t want to die. The shakes keep growing, his arms felt taut and pulled and strained. Rex couldn’t move. Gaping like a fish, he pulls on his magic, trying to wrangle some sort of final defence when he feels that tether anchor into his core, his center. And just like the wolf from earlier, he feels himself launch upwards with high velocity. It squeezes him tight, like forced through a tube of air and the sudden compression has him trying to scream from it’s aching pressure.

His stomach gurgles pockets of air, intestines cramping up and his arms find themselves pinned to his sides. The thoughts in his head detach from the peril around him, and speculate the situation at hand without thought to context or helpfulness. The speed was fast. Would he hit the ceiling? Collapse and crumple before his magic gave out from the damage and burst his dust like snow over the rest of the underground? Would it be slow motion, like crushing a can and watching his innards pop and spurt before dusting from magic loss? The visuals made him sick, and it felt unhinged as he lurched to a stop where nothing should have been able to- He’s then launched forward, spun about and flung in circles that dazed and scrambled his thoughts. The familiar rush of pebbles danced down his nerve endings, his insides felt inflated with air and bloating scored him around to fling downwards into leaves and brush, scattering stones over the crest of his head and suddenly it all stopped.

Snow meets his face and sprays into his mouth, stinging with cold bites. His throat contracts and he starts coughing up water, rasping and laid still in the silence around him. Breathed, waited. Calmed. Where the fuck was the lizard? Why was he still alive? He hears soft dripping… and the faintest sound of bells from far in the distance, and realizes things are eerily calm for what they’d been earlier. Rolling over, he looks up… and the ceiling feels different. The crystals are all blue, for starters, and he recognizes none of the patterns up there. Foreign bodies that shone brightly, and offered no comfort. The fuck was this? The frantic beating of his soul flutters heavy in his chest and beats pain into his sternum, enough that Rex eventually gives up and sits up to try and figure himself out.

It’s then, as he’s rubbing melted water from his jacket that he spots movement… and freezes. Death was here, death was coming- The familiar red stops his soul in his throat. Rex stills himself entirely, just as the two walking figures pause, too. The sheer volume of the shock of the moment comes, and he’s taking it in stutter by stutter of the frame. He’s looking at himself, in blue palette. Baggy cloths, too many elastic bands around the arms and legs and stickers that were falling off or disintegrating in patches on the jacket and snow pants. They looked nearly brand new, and a wide, open face missing bunches of teeth watched him closely and with a grinning wide smile of awe. In his hands he held a small box with bright gold and green wrapping paper.

Though this awfully odd look-alike was jubilant and youthful, the other wasn’t and it felt familiar but disarming at once. Papyrus stood stock still, bag over his shoulders… and face clean. Smooth without strife or marks from violence and torment. He too, looked young like the other because of their delicate softness. This strange shadow of a familiar face appeared to be passive, ridged lips in a thin line as he watched the scene with building confusion along the brow of bone. Rex recognized the curve of the face and the set of the eyes, even the jawline… but like hell was this Papyrus. His Papyrus had fangs and scars and a roughness that was red and- 

“....PAPY, LOOK! WHO’S THAT?” The blue one coos, pointing a clipped and cleaned finger towards him and Rex flinches. That stupid, louder tone in his voice that grated him so much-

“...you okay, man?” The taller, soft-spoken Papyrus clone but clearly not Papyrus at all asked, and shifted the sack over his shoulder. The mere sight of it just slanted Rex’s whole perspective sideways. It looked like the bag he and Pap were delivering… yet it was cleaner. Sturdier and well cared for. Their bag, but not. Their faces in different cloths, with different ways to speak… He can’t, process this- He feels fear clutch his soul tight in deep piercing talons, and as he arches his knee to push into the snow to start crawling backwards, he feels the kite tug.

Rex’s head snaps up, and he sights the two figures who stepped in closer to better look him over. A small hand reaches towards him and the flinch to escape is all that tether needs to start pulling and hard. Lines of teeth and ridged lips part to warn but he’s already being dragged backwards without care, the landscape blurring into streams of white crosshairs and scattering snow that spattered about. He was tossed into a box of sticks and shaken, battered and slammed into and over without mercy. His orientation shifted like a lamp jostled and it’s light danced over a tightly packed room. 

He was dropped and picked up and hurled over through laundry clamps and baked under hot smouldering heat as tape clung to his nerves to muffle everything before being ripped back. He was upside down and then right side up again in a split second and he retched into nothing as crisp air began to rush into his lungs. Opening his eyes just showed blurriness from his senses under whiplash and acrid ozone before Rex found himself dumped into the soft pillow of snow like an abandoned doll. 

The screaming was there like it never ended; distant, searching and shrill. Calling Papyrus’ name and swearing much pain and hurt over and over, beseeching for them to come out. It was unfortunate that the injured fucker knew Pap’s identity, and spread the knowledge like this… but he could only pray it helped build reputation for people to stay away. Instantly Rex doubted the truth of it, and his head continued to spin as he realized that for small fry like they are, this wasn’t too bad. For a time Rex sat, regulating his breathing as he felt his body waver and hover over itself in imprints that followed his soulbeats. The ebb and flow of the strange sensations of such impossible events pounded into his mind until it was but gentle knocking, and dissipated almost entirely.

Soft crunching sounded nearby as something got closer, and Rex barely cared to think about it until something creaked. The monster jumped to his feet, startled but readying magic to fight back before he stumbled at the sight of Papyrus hovering over him like that. Eyes flared red, trailing, and mouth in a massive grimace. 

“p-pap-” His dry throat catches on the words, and his friend lunges a hand forward to grab Rex’s collar with a firm hand, jerking hard to haul him upwards. Face to face like this, he could read the anger radiating off of him and swallowed anxiously. 

“SHUT UP.” Papyrus ground out like his teeth were coals, jerking with anger to settle Rex low enough to find his own footing before letting go with a discard gesture. It’s a swift fix to reach his hand back to the bag and adjusts it with a shift and hop of his shoulders and posture. The cargo was safe-

“NOW MOVE.” Is the follow up, and the taller monster pivots on his heel to turn to continue the mission. The monster in the distance keeps crying out as they move along, winding along the snow path down towards Gyftrot’s cavern before it suddenly gurgled, shrilly clipped and then stopped entirely. The two sagged with relief at the thought of his death, freed from the burden of having to sneak their way back passed him once this was done. 

From there, everything went smoothly. Gyftrot and his father met at the door, paying two coppers upfront and getting the bag… before the older stag monster leaned forward and paid three coppers on top in thanks for the speed and security to their package. Even though the two extras were a sweet bonus for their ordeal, Papyrus seemed rather cold and distant as he gave the proper salute and thanks, recommended they ask Lapina for further tasks for them, bid good day and left. The journey back was easy to follow, and as they thought, the lizard’s blade sat atop a pile of dust in shards, probably from projectiles.

Three less monsters to concern themselves for. 

The remainder of the walk was held in silence. Papyrus’ back shuddered and twitched, displaying the reserved anger that danced over his thoughts and drove him to move… yet Rex witnessed that he did nothing to diffuse himself. Tension was tight and he felt himself sweating, greatly. Often he’d stagger and pause, trying to keep up but whatever that had been earlier just chewed through his reserves worse than anything else. The fear of being hurt by his friend kept him moving despite the pain, and only when he stumbled to one knee did Papyrus actually stop.

Their eyes meet, and Rex is waiting for it. He knows that Papyrus can get reckless when pissed, and the outlet was so readily available to him. A wince comes, a pant of open teeth and their eyes stay locked. The anger, the shame, the embarrassment over what happened earlier danced in those deep sockets, and his mind draws the image from earlier to contrast. The other, cleaner fake had the same shape, and voice. But his friend showed more damage. More life. More hardship and pain and misery- He decides that he hates that other figure for looking so healthy, so above them and tidy-

“COME ON.” Papyrus gripes hotly, turning around and exposing his back for Rex to touch. He’s shocked into stillness, staring into the planes of that worn jacket and how a new cut had sliced the first layer open along the bottom. Probably during their skirmish, maybe. Papyrus grunts, patience thin and Rex scrabbles quickly to crawl onto his back, and locked his hands together to hold on as Papyrus looped his arms around Rex’s thighs and held tight to start walking.

Sure, this was… weirdly vulnerable for the two of them, but Rex kept himself vigilant. If someone attacked, at least he could weight them down so they could escape, right? It’s a good enough reason to retain himself from feeling too guilty as they made it into residence with good time. Passed the note to Lapina to assure a job complete, a thanks and slam of the door before they resumed their journey homewards. Left the new village limits behind, following a new path home that would lose any tailing monsters in the bracken and wood before looping around… And only then, did Papyrus seem less tense to speak.

“...I NEED, A TITLE.” He announces almost out of the blue, and Rex shifts some to try and lean forward to see his face. It’s not enough, but at least he can see the hard set features from an angle.

“yeah?” Rex murmurs faintly to encourage him to keep going, latching onto the topic to have anything be said between them again. 

“...YEAH. PAPYRUS… IS MY NAME. BUT.” Papyrus sighed, tucking his head a little to swallow some and lifted his head to look ahead again. “...IT’S NOT WHAT I WANT, ANYMORE. THEY TWISTED IT SO EASILY.” There’s the anger again, trembling beneath Rex’s belly and the smaller skeleton mimic tucked his head down anxiously, too.

“...yeah.” Rex whispered faintly, uncertain as Papyrus grunted hotly, shifting Rex up a little to better keep hold on his weight.

“I WANT, SOMETHING TO BE INTIMIDATING. STRONG. WORTHY OF OUR POWER.” He continues with an air of nonchalance that was tight and firm, but Rex found himself stunned all the same. Our. Not his. Not The Great Papyrus’ power. But theirs. He can’t help the pride that flows through him for it, and he leans in closer to keep their heads near each other. 

“yeah... i mean, with a new title you’d be entering a new stage, too right? Puberty an shit.” Rex spun a hand for emphasis and shuffled a little, hoping that the idea would settle better for Papyrus and sort of, help soothe his concerns. It seems to work and the tension fades off from his spine, standing taller again as they wove around a trunk.

“INDEED! A NEW NAME, FOR A NEW START! A NEW BODY, NEW VOICE… NEW REPUTATION!” With an eager tromp he’s jumping up onto a rock a moment to pose, and they share young, playful laughter as Rex poses with him and props his arms upwards.

“what about something fierce? like the name of a knife?” Rex said eagerly, shifting his legs a little as Papyrus hummed thoughtfully at the idea. Now that, was something to think about, and they began to walk along once again.

“HRM…. DIRKS ARE, PRETTY INTERESTING…” Papyrus started, but Rex shook his head instantly in refusal.

“no no, dude. dirks? dicks. can’t use that.” There’s a huff from Papyrus as he groans, smacking his face with a hand and nearly dropping Rex before they adjusted to each other. The cavern rock they lived behind came in sight, and they crouched down, working around the brush to finally start their way inside. Wet walls glimmered as their bodies slid around bends and jutting shapes, finding their home untouched and waiting for them. The two then settled in to relax on their nests, dragging out everything with words they had and traded ideas over books, magazines and flyers. There was something they would find and use, and Papyrus would find himself more confident again. 

Something better, something that would let him feel as powerful as he was. And Rex put everything he had into it, happy to forget the strange apparition that felt all too linked to the first one.


	3. Sometimes Progress Comes Backwards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been way too long, but life, mental health and employment got in the way. I'm sorry.   
> This chapter is a little odd. It's mostly exposition, which is another reason this took eons to write, and it's unbeta'd.
> 
> Hopefully with school starting I can get to writing the next chapter in an orderly fashion.

Progress is a slow, low rising march forward. Strife and aggression remain a constant high to hover over the kingdom’s heads, leading to more dust and loss between minor, scattered factions. Pull and push, monsters challenged laws, fought for honour and for feed. As the years passed, old grudges settled. Rivalries between families, species and groups began to dissolve as a delicate shawl covered the whole of their small isolated world with something unfamiliar. Few voices murmur of hope as others scoff the future for any good to manifest. Life was challenging enough to scavenge and survive. Crops torn up and sheds burned down for slights. None gave up, sowing new rows, cultivating new seed… and despite every downturn...

Despite all odds… it did get better. Huts were slowly erected, and soon a township was born, creating opportunity for a shop to be founded, and an inn to take tentative form. Monsters began to spread out for safety and territory, clinging to the path that led them towards new sights and lives to continue making crops and starting to mill fertile land. Snowden became an outpost of sorts for resting travellers to gather goods to set forth, slowly spreading the populace towards Waterfell. Houses began to be built among friends and loyalties to workers willing to do it, creating a new steady settlement before it too, sprang forth new venue to pass more product along to Heatlands. The progression there created more options for food, and shops began to open that made specialty items for business. Loaves of bread, corn, grains. It was easier to have energy and magic to build up further.

 

As Rex aged, three more instances of strange, unexplained ‘jumps’ came to pass. Brief, spontaneous incidents that showed strange visions he’d barely processed in the short period of his visits, before being tossed back into his reality in the heat of the moment. To distract himself from their haunting uncertainty, he took jobs and watched over construction sites in Heatlands rise, witness better metals scavenged from the rough of stone and magma pits to begin forging far better materials. No matter how he’d struggled to deny and ignore the truth of the events, they lingered on in his thoughts, drawing crisp references to the place beyond that was tidy, clean, and far more advanced than any world he’d have ever thought to exist. 

It made some jobs a challenge, but he’d managed to draw bank and come home to the nook that needed serious hunching to fit into. Growing older meant getting somewhat bigger, and with Pinscher the size of a fucking house, it made the hide away a little more cramped. They needed to get gear together, and with Pinscher putting his everything into training, Rex was happy to help his friend reach greater heights… even with his own setbacks. While Pinscher flourished and managed to gain a slot in the guard’s program, Rex was not. Too slow, too tired out, too small, too young still despite being 45, too little of anything they wanted from prodigies. He was all but kicked out onto the doorstep and chased off with rancorous laughter. That had unleashed the third jump Rex had ever experienced, his visit as short as the first two before it. 

From the doorframe of the training grounds to some strange courtyard, Rex sighted monsters swaying and moving to some strange pattern that looked nothing like fighting, yet synchronized. A slow lift of their cupped hand, a sway of their hips before advancing a foot… and bowing to each other. The music played loudly, rhythmic and helped the attendees keep time as they worked circles around each other, springing up a leg in the softest kick he’s ever seen before swiftly spinning themselves around to loop arms with the person behind them and continue to repeat the pattern.

He’d never seen such unity, such casual contact and laughter among monsters that he felt stricken to the ground. Watching with flitting, quick glances towards movement that could signal the collapse of such an event. A sway of a tail, the swipe of a hand. Nothing. The music changed to a new song and the courtyard continued to shift in tune. Then, in behind the moving monsters clustered together was a booth, and younger monsters seemed to be running after each other, screaming and lobbing… red, spheres? One hits a horn and pops, spattering water and the screaming got worse. 

It’s then he spots the second fake he’s come to identify, and almost wants to groan in revulsion. More stickers along his skull, all the stupid shiny glitter covered type and more rubber bands along his arms to make for stripes. He was half wet and dripping into the snow, taking defence behind a vendor’s table to huck his projectiles at the charging monsters, squealing loudly and projecting such a pitch that he ground his teeth. The noise, the crowd, the irregularities- He needed to get out of here. As he shifts, it’s then he hears something stop behind him. The noise has him flinch and spin around, sighting that red, red hoodie and peeks up to that face-

“...who are you?” That stupidly soft and drawling tone just chaffes his ear cavities in such abrasion to reason. Before he can respond to the squinting expression with anything at all- The tether yanks him home in the dazing, draining way it always has. 

The fourth jump was an accident during a delivery at the age of 53. Dropping cargo when the box tore open, Rex’s panic surged quickly over his magic to arm himself and the sight of an empty, dim lit street becoming a bright, populated area where his friend’s original born name was shouted and worried over. The feelings of dread had him dragged back before he could stop it, meeting eyes with the bright blues of this fake Papyrus and his stricken expression. So many monsters all together like that had been frightening enough that he’d barely managed to keep himself composed at all. His shift during sentry duty over a site to build the bigger, spacious two floor inn had been tough and shaken, despite needing his full attention. The first building to get another story in the entire kingdom, and he needed to be on his best despite snipping at monsters who came too close to see. 

The fifth jump was entirely different. Because Rex couldn’t get approved for the try outs regime, Pinscher decided to take it home and make notes. Sitting on their shared nest surface just to fit their bodies, Pinscher pointed out patterns and exercises they did in hopes of Rex taking mantle to do smaller spurts on his own. It was hopeful thinking that did push Rex to train eventually, using the hours Pinscher was gone that he was shiftless to kill time, but it wasn’t much at first. His magic reserves continued to prove fractal when pushed too far, and Rex would pass out after an hour of drills before waking up in two. Despite the setbacks and despair over his apparent frailty he kept going, pushing, trying. The weeks blended with the changes between training, work and just planning and talking with Pinscher in the late hours of the night. The endurance run had them stumble and collapse with exhaustion more than once, but both felt stronger for it. 

Rex could slowly endure more, and with small dummies and targets Pinscher snuck back home, he was able to stretch his reservoir. Forming bones in patterns and sliding them along the ground, he worked himself up to be able to manifest them easier and easier. Keeping it up for stretches of months, he and Pinscher could take small days off to spar and clash, displaying their improvements and motivating themselves to aim higher. Life felt easier to handle, with these new springing opportunities and their power growing with every cycle of the seasons. With it came new opportunity for exploration, and Rex began to muse upon the limitations of his untapped power. Those strange incidents, no matter how far apart they had been, continued to crop up enough that he knew something was tugging for attention. To be discovered, and learned... 

His magic always seemed to be the clincher that sparks it, that strange tether that pulled his very being apart. Perhaps it was an ability he could master, instead of letting it drag him around. With this new goal set in mind, Rex vested his training time to activate this alien gift and utilize it. Mostly it was a matter of concentrating on the place he wanted to go (usually just across the field) and try to trigger that tether response that would carry him off entirely. And fuck was that simply stated task the most challenging thing in the world. He could feel his magic concentrate, willing to move as he asked it to but every time it snapped back like a rubber band and floored him to knock out more times than he could count. 

Rex was anything but a quitter, and he worked hard. Trained and trained, practiced concentration and flexing his magic to be more limber, more uniform. He taught it to move with more quickness and fluidity, like an accomplice. Taught himself how to drape his form in the blue shimmer and shield himself from harm. Seems to be the right step towards his true goal, as it allowed the start of that tether to form the more he worked at it. Then, one day, as he visualized the rock across the field… the blue magic shimmered, anchored, and with a leap of faith he was… suddenly there beside it. The euphoria of his success wrought a whoop of delight, arms thrown up in the air with a little wiggle as the thrill for his victory thundered in the pressure of his head. It was short lived as his magic suddenly drained, and again Rex flopped to black out into the snowbank. 

From there, the application of his skill became the focus. To repeat the process was tough, and took weeks to be able to work himself to successfully execute it. The progress of time allowed the change from simply passing out on the spot to walking back to the cave to sleep it off, and Pinscher was able to notice and congratulate his friend’s growth. Progress, constant progress. The two could feel proud of their strength as they shared stories and reports over a meal the next morning. An encouraging pat is given in conclusion as Pinscher took off for his trials, leaving Rex to continue training.

It felt like his power was so massive that a release just opened the flood gates, and the drain wasn’t a lack of fortitude but a simple struggle of reserve. It was difficult to tangle his need to push further with learning to hold back, and the unfortunate blend is what triggers the fifth port at all. Such a deliberate jump from just across the field, to this strange new location was clearly further than he’d planned for. The rush of directions being torn apart and strung together without reason battered his conscious thoughts relentlessly, yanking his insides out and pushing down on his head with more pressure he could have ever learned to handle. Tugged, strewn, stretched and taffy pulled in wads, Rex felt himself be flung about until finally, with a small drop he found himself passing into cold and solid ground beneath the snow with a stumble. 

Hours cast adrift, Rex was left with nothing but a comfortable white silence over the top of his head. A tender breeze stirred the needles on the pine trees, and snow swirled about to gather in the fibers of his jacket. Eventually, as always, he awoke with vague dread and a groggy feeling in the back of his skull. A soft groan is made as he begins to sit himself up, ready to asses how much was left of his day and if he should bother trying again… when everything registers in stark polaroid frenzy from a simple, soft shocked gasp in reply.

The crispness of the snow. The healthy, living trees. Most important of all was the figure standing nearby, stock still as if being motionless would prevent him from being seen… It was the same red hoodie. Rex flits his gaze up quickly to beat the anxious hesitation not to, staring into that familiar but unfamiliar face as blue eyes lock on red; there’s a stalemate. How long had the other been standing there, watching him like this? 

“...” Rex is almost too afraid to say anything. Breaking the moment could lead to death, if they broke into a fight. He was barely recovered from the jump a all, he wouldn’t be able to defend himself. Seems the other had gotten over his hesitation, and shifts his posture to pocket his hands. Slowly that bare skull tilts to slowly blink at him, allowing the bags under those eyes to show more thoroughly. 

“...you, aight bud?” The soft, lazy drawl asks, and it chafes on him like nothing else. It was Pinscher but nothing like Pinscher. Again. He feels, that perhaps… this is Papyrus, but of a different kind. His head struggles to wrap around it, but he’s shifting himself instead, spreading his palms into the snow to angle up his body. Preparing for a leap, almost, tense and ready. It translates enough that the imposter shifts a little, squaring his stance. Least he knew how to fight, too.

“...go away.” Rex grumbles at him, squaring his frame and shoulders but the idiot seems to misread something and steps forward. There’s tension lacing up his spine plates and he almost feels the chill creeping over his exposed flesh. The taller monster’s hand is extended forward, and Rex can barely control himself.

“wait bud, calm down…” Is the soothing little approach, but Rex can only feel the rising pressure in his head. His throat feels tight, and the lump around his esophagus makes the back of his mouth taste vile. This wasn’t good, and he knew he needed to go, to run. 

“no.” He says firmly and strongly, working the word like some form of incantation to make him stop coming any closer than he was. It doesn’t work. The distance between them both continues to tighten, smaller as the snow is crunched underfoot. His spine arches more, and his legs tremble from the tense posture.

“le’s… talk ok? ...please…” The stranger continues to speak, to try and be gentle but Rex has nothing for it. Instead, his body seizes and he’s jumping. He wants to run, and his head pictures him dashing off to go hide behind some rocks somewhere until the tug takes him home. Instead, he’s more offensive and lunges upon the other. There’s panic, a flare of magic and their eyes glow as they are locked on one another. Momentum carries the stranger down into the snow, and Rex settles his weight to pin the monster’s chest to the ground.

“w-wait-!” He squeaks anxiously, a hand coming up but Rex’s fist is clenched, and he wails a hard punch into the monster’s cheekbone. Crunch. He feels the cartilage of that skull beneath his fingers and the bounce hurts his own hand, but he doesn’t care. All he has is adrenalin.

“fight me!” Rex shrieked with urgency, with pain in his chest as the anxiety rises up and he’s struggling to keep himself level at all. The red sweatered fake doesn’t seem to move, half frozen beneath his weight like the pain was the last thing he’d expected. Without prompt, Rex cocks his other hand, and punches the other side of his face with a crunch as his bone plating buckled and creaked, but held. There’s a spurt of blood, and it’s blue, shining into the snow that makes Rex take pause and stare at the red of his hand, and the blue streak along it. The fuck…? 

“...ya done?” The figure beneath him asks, and he’s flitting a nervous look towards the other as he shifts, and grabs the collar of his cloths to lift their faces inches apart. His mouth opens and there’s a spatter of drool that has the other narrowing his eyes to avoid getting any in them.

“fight me ya stupid fuck!” Rex is struggling to stop himself from shaking, rattling his plates like he was but the other beneath him seemed to be patient and calm as ever despite his situation. The punches began to make little blooms of blue on the other’s face, and the difference of hue just floors him all over again. Pinscher was red, just like he was. Why was this fuck blue…? What sense did this make-

“...i won’t.” The stranger responds coolly, patiently, weathering out Rex’s childish fit. Rex snarls again, baring his real teeth and their damp, yellowed sharpness for threat value. It succeeds in making those droopy eyes slowly blink as he lifts his arms slowly. The shorter monster punches at one arm on principal to knock it back, and the other hovers there a moment before gently touching Rex’s knee. 

“stop!” He screamed, smashing his fist down onto that hand and finally the taller monster flinched and grimaced, brow lowering into a frown. 

“...those hurt, you know.” The stranger’s tone is patient and quiet, eyes searching Rex’s with a calm that was utterly foreign to him. How could he be so patient? So unfazed by everything he’d done? Rex was panting from the tightness in his chest and the violence he’d slung, gently shaking as those hands slowly came to settle on the sides of his face. With a flinch he snaps to nip them, expecting a slap or response but there was nothing but patience. Patience, patience, patience. Rex whimpered, releasing those clean white bone plates and nimble black fingers from his grip and sat stunned as they cupped the sides of his face anyway. 

“...you done?” The stranger asked again, tilting his head a little to observe Rex’s response. The red tinged monster could feel his sweat beading, dripping down the sides of his head. He swallows a lump when a few of them gather beneath the guy’s palm, and he is stricken with terror at the thought of being hit because of its grossness. A sharp nod is given, resigned to this strange technique to break his will. Who didn’t fight back? Who allowed themselves to be beaten when they were far stronger and far more capable than he was? 

“...y-yeah…” Rex chokes softly, nodding with fragility into those hands as he awaits the strike. The retaliation. Instead, he gets gentle motions from those thumbs… tracing? No… just rubbing. His shaking starts up again, and the fear of everything turns tonic in his face and bubbles into tears as he sniffles. The stranger nods, shudders, and then his arm curls, down, one left to rub him. His nose cavity looks a little crooked, and the blooming blue makes it look awful.

“...you punch really hard…” He whines lightly, softly, and there’s a tone of pain in his voice from it. Rex mumbles a soft apology, sniffling as he tries to stop his own tears from falling as the figure beneath him too began to shake… tremble… his face morphed into a grimace, a whistle for breath- The stranger whines, hiccups and nestles the arm into his chest, half touching a sore on his cheek. The poor boy’s face was really bruising now, and before either of them knew it… 

They were crying. 

“your punches really h-hurt…!”  
“msorry…”  
“you hi-it me- r-really ha-ard…!”   
“...ms-sorr-ry…”   
“i w-was-s nice t-to yo-ou…!”   
“...mso-o-or-rry…!”   
“w-why did yo-ou hit-t so har-ard-?”   
“mso-orr-ry…”

They lapsed into soft tearful silence eventually, the taller boy taking his hands to rub at his eyes, sniffling and trying to tidy his face between smears and aches. Rex sat and watched between fat streaks down his face, not moving in the slightest to stop them. Acknowledging they were there was too much after watching this guy break down for nothing. This too, eventually passed, and the pinned monster collected himself to level his breathing. Those blurry eyes settled on Rex once more and the shorter monster flinched on principal. 

“...who're you..?” The stranger tries softly again, tentative but quiet… and Rex rattles a sticky breath in his throat before he mumbles like a scolded child.

“...m’Rex.” 

The stranger squints a little bit, like he wasn’t entirely charmed to the name. Maybe. Or… Instead he tilts his head a little bit the other way and mumbles.

“...sure it aint Sans?” The regret in uttering the name was barely formed as Rex snarled, cocked his arm and punched the guy in the face again with a loud crack. Now the groan of pain Rex is familiar with is made, and the stranger cups his new face with a whine and shudder from the agony that rattled down into his body.

“dont you fuckin speak that name again! no ones ter know who had that name-” Rex rages out, loud enough that it carries and echoes and nearly drowns the fervent apologies from the monster beneath him. It doesn’t stop the next punch to his shoulder, continuing the assault like their little break already hadn’t meant anything at all- 

“yer not even really papryus-!” He accused with heat and aggression as he sat up on one knee, intending to wail down upon this boy with everything he had before the other launched, hugging around his waist tight and hiding his face into Rex’s pudge. It startles the other into a shrill sound that makes him stiff before he falls over… and then the two of them are shrieking at one another. 

“howd you know my name??” The papyrus fake screamed out anxiously, trying to hold on while Rex shoved and beat down on the other’s head with his fist, making the monster whimper and clench his teeth against Rex’s side for every blow. This was clearly going nowhere… and Rex’s draw of magic began to pull on him more tautly, almost urgently cloaking his back and shoulders and he knows what’s coming. 

“yer jus-” He grabs the other’s collar and tugs, ducking his head into the red hoodie and shoves, startling the other to spasm and flail to protect his head with his arms again. “-a stupid-” It was enough for Rex to brace and shoot up to stand, drawing his knee to strike the other in the face and knock him down. “red-” The pain stung in his knee but he was standing, and with a tug of his hands he’s drawing the cloak of blue magic around himself again.

“-fake!” 

And before the other knew it, the short angry monster who’d left him with quite an awkward situation to explain was gone, but mere footprints in the snow and random spots of blue from the spurts. In immense pain and head pounding, this Papyrus settled his treasured hoodie down around his shoulders and laid his face into the snow to groan, allowing the cold to soothe his new wounds. The face of that monster was hauntingly familiar, but the story made less and less sense. 

A fictitious fairy guide that only served to startle him continued to appear… and now contact was made only to injure? Nothing was making sense… and with a sniffle as his face throbbed hard and heavy, Papyrus picked himself up, and began to weak shuffle home as he plotted how to fib his way out of this one. Arm slung against the other, held tightly and close as he waddled along, picking past the trees to the main road as night settled and monsters snuffed their welcoming candles from their doors.

Maybe some bullies from HotFalls would do the trick, he hoped, standing before his door and breathing in to steel himself to the fear of his brother before knocking.


End file.
